#[Antale -drabbles-]

[soulsxng]

They were heading back from running some of the errands that had piled up when they were in Vanystea, when the sharp smell of blood hit their nose. While that wasn't necessarily an oddity in the Plains, the fact that they were passing through one of the biggest gathering areas for the packs without seeing more than a handful of other Aifaen made it stand out in a way that had brilliant red fur raising to stand on end.

Eleare's ears pinned back against their head, and they did a little circle as they investigated the smell further. In the same direction, they could smell a large group of other beasts gathered. And as they followed the trail a bit further, they picked up something more...familiar. Three scents that they had come to know intimately, over the years.

Before they've even fully realized it, their paws are carrying them toward the sources of the scent in a full sprint. When they reach the others, gathered around in an anxious circle, the inari squeezes and leaps their way through the crowd, ignoring the grumbles and snarls that some gave in response.

"Ma..."

"Mom..."

Just as they'd thought, the moment they broke through the crowd, Eleare was met with the faces of their older children-- Thelrin and Raelin. They had been knelt on the ground with their backs toward Eleare at first, but the moment they got close enough and shifted forms, both jumped to their feet and turned to face Eleare.

Red eyes traveled quickly over their forms, making sure that they weren't injured before moving on to the person the two had been kneeling beside. They could feel their stomach twist in anticipation, before dropping altogether when their gaze fell upon the third familiar face.

"Eleare? Wh--"

Before he can even respond, they're practically on top of him. Hands pushing clothing aside to get a better look at the wounds that littered the other Aifaen's body. They had to fight their instincts to growl and shoo away the healers that were already helping him, and instead gripped the man's arm tight.

"What happened to you? When did you get back from Ahnia, Antale?" They sounded angry, and both Thelrin and Raelin's ears pressed back flat to their heads, starting to move away to avoid Eleare's wrath. Unfortunately, that only seemed to draw their attention. "And you two! If your father is back home, let alone injured, why would neither of you come to get me? I swear to Bralis, Tal, if you told them not to just because you didn't want to worry me, I'm going to finish you off in front of the whole Plains!"

"Lea, please...it hasn't been long, I promise." The man-- Antale-- lifts a hand, pressing a finger to their nose despite the way their lip curled like they were ready to bite. They don't, though...after a moment or two, the harsh air around them falters, and they lower their head a bit, so Antale's fingers could run through their hair, and rub at one fluffy ear. "I'm fine, I've had worse than this. The exhaustion from the fighting caught up to me, is all."

Eleare doesn't seem at all pleased to hear the last bit, but as it seems that Antale had more to say, they kept it to themself.

"...Something happened in Ahnia-- Elyki is causing trouble alongside the coup out there. That's why I'm here, and why I'm worse for wear. I was asked to relay what happened to the heads. Warn them, and see if they can spare some help."

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, August 23

Buffy: You know what? I don't think you want us to let you go. Maybe we made it a little too comfy in here for ya. Spike: Comfy? I'm chained in a bathtub drinkin' pig's blood from a novelty mug. Doesn't rank huge in the Zagat's Guide. Buffy: You want something nicer? (She leans her head to the side, exposing her throat to him.) Look at my.. poor neck? All bare and tender and exposed.. all that blood just .. pumping away.. (Spike is all but licking his lips) Giles: Oh, please. Spike: Giles, make her stop.

~~Something Blue~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Meeting with the Boss by Indra Leigh (Giles, The Sentinel xover, FR13)

Conversations by acswatwst (Joyce, Ghostbusters xover, FR13)

Goodbye to Charming by Glitterangelem (Kennedy, Sons of Anarchy xover, PG)

Why I Won't Drink In Vegas Ever Again by beri_fanfic (Beriaearwen) (Buffy, How I Met Your Mother xover, FR13)

Five Page Sonnets by TheClowniestLivInExistence (Spike/Buffy, T)

Innocence Undone by Anonymous (Spike/Dawn, E)

"One Week, Then We'll See" by DrivingStick (Tara/Willow, T)

The Requisite Father Embarrassment by madimpossibledreamer (Xander, NCIS xover, G)

[Chaptered Fiction]

In the Afterlife - Ch. 3 by mmooch (MCU xover, FR13)

A Cascade of Echoes - Ch. 7 by 3am_moonlight (MirroredIllusions on TtH) (Buffy, Stargate crossover, T)

oh sister, I will help you out - Ch. 2 by jedibuttercup (Buffy, Fast and the Furious xover, T)

oh sister, I will help you out - Ch. 2 by jedibuttercup (Buffy, Fast and the Furious xover, T)

Burning Questions - Ch. 3 by kristosnikos (COMPLETE! Riley/Spike, M)

Homecoming - Ch. 1 by reinla (Buffy/Dean, supernatural xover, E)

Lindsey's Pride - Ch. 1 by TinyDancer96 (Angel & Lindsey, T)

Chain of Ascension - Ch. 43 by GraeFoxx (Xander/Buffy, Xander/multi, E)

an endless road to rediscover - Ch. 2 by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup) (Buffy, Fast and Furious xover, G)

the world moves on (and i without you) - Ch. 6 by taxicab12 (COMPLETE! Tara/Willow, T)

Magic of the Willow Tree - Ch. 1 by 29PheonixLement (Tara/Willow, G)

The Sun - Ch. 12 by heckate (Tara/Willow, T)

A New Big Bad - Ch. 8 by tinfoil_paint (Tara/Willow, T)

Bound - Ch. 9 by RavenLove12 (Spike/Buffy, E)

Bound - Ch.1 by RavenLove12 (Spike/Buffy, E)

Willing Slave - Ch. 16 by TheSigyn (Spike/Buffy, E)

Dress My Body All in Flowers White - Ch. 24 by othellia (Spike/Buffy, M)

In Retrograde - Ch. 3 by wroth_and_ruin (Spike/Buffy, M)

Who Watches the Watchers - Ch. 11 by blue_sweater_spike (Spike/Buffy, M)

Different Lives - Ch. 23 by BuffyBot3000 (Faith & Tara, Jenny/Giles, T)

I don't care about the presents - Ch. 2 by watcherless (Faith/Buffy, E)

All That Is And All That Seems - Ch. 37 by MalkMcJorma (Faith/OMC, Riley/Buffy, M)

A Night Without Day - Ch. 7 by HappyWhenItRains (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Who Watches the Watchers - Ch. 11 by blue_sweater_spike (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Time We Had - Ch. 15 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

I Almost Do - Ch. 8 by artemisthestargazer (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

A Cascade of Echoes - Ch. 7 by MirroredIllusions (Buffy, Stargate crossover, FR13)

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[refusaltobow]

(Little drabble to do with Antal-Lei and a certain friend. Future rp plot stuff. This demonstrates why you should never anger Antal-Lei)

He would not stop. He would not stop running. He would not eat. He would not sleep. He would not so much as take care of his injured foot until he had found them.

And he could not stop crying.

Furious silent tears had been dripping down his face for hours now as his feet bit the hard, warm, ash-dusted rock. Occasionally a spiny half-dead plant would prick his toes. But he barely felt it. He had to reach them soon. If he didn’t he dreaded to think what would happen.

And it was his fault. It always was.

Breath rasping as he alternated between sobs and desperate gasps for air, he was finding it harder to breathe in the ashen air let alone see straight. His eyes were a mix of oil and salt water, his vision clouding.

Wiping his face furiously, he tapped into his Histskin abilities, screaming out a prayer to The Hist that they might provide him with the energy he required. Incoherent Jel lost to the desert

And so Antal-Lei charged on through the nights and days, barely stopping to take care of himself. Whilst he had unfortunately lost hatchlings in the past despite his best efforts, this was different. A non-Saxhleel cannot be reborn. And these two children… If they were lost.

He could not let their parents go through that.

Trying as hard as he could to wipe such thoughts from his mind, the distraught Dunmer paused so as to sniff the air and ground. There it was, faint, but still present. If The Hist had not altered him then he would have had no hope of tracking down the girls. In fact he was changed so much he was pretty much a Saxhleel wearing a Dunmer’s skin at this point.

After double-checking the direction of his quarry, Antal-Lei was once more running. Legs burning and yet he could not feel it as his skin started to glow and hum with Histskin. He was getting closer to his target. And when he found them… Only three people would be walking away.

He was going to burn them all. Tear their bodies asunder and destroy the very nerve centre of their disgusting trade.

He would make them scream, in pain and terror. He would become a storm, a nightmare. And he would utterly eradicate every trace of their existence. Their bodies would become flakes of blackened ash on the wind.

He was coming.

He was coming with the pounding fury of a thousand sentient Trees at his heels.

He was coming with the devotion and ferocity his own father had shown when protecting him.

He was coming.

And he would burn everything to the ground.

[refusaltobow]

An annual visit

Once more featuring @azurasblacksheep‘s Gilmyn Ramarys! (Sort of...)

The Dunmer slipped with ease off the cliff racer, even though he was ageing by now his body was still incredibly spry. He only had one wish – that that melodramatic idiot had decided to have himself laid to rest a bit closer. But it was a minor qualm, not that Antal-Lei minded. He found it so strange, that he made this journey every year now. Who would have thought it? That he would make such an effort for a Dunmer?

Evening had fallen which was how the mage preferred it. Antal-Lei was..tolerated at best and he never liked setting foot in Blacklight. In any case, he did not need his cliff racer causing a kerfuffle, far better he just arrived after sunset and be gone before dawn.

The quiet padding of his footsteps echoed throughout the silent streets. The only gazes afforded to him were the glances of guards who by now knew of the mysterious out-of-place Dunmer who had been making what appeared to be an annual pilgrimage here for decades now. Some said a century or more. By now he was but a ghost to the residents though his influence had remained, stories were still exchanged of the peculiar rainbow dunmer from the swamp with terrifying powers. Of how he had raised armies of the dead, of how he tamed cliff racers, of how he had unleashed a magic so terrible it had made House Redoran quiver and House Telvanni actually engage in politics for once.

The Dunmer who knew ice magic and commanded the shadows.

The rock was still warm from the sun’s beating of the day, his feet tingling as they soaked up the heat in the otherwise cool night. Glancing up he saw the sky to be clear and the moons casting an especially bright light tonight. If only he could remain outside.

Walking the way he knew, he wound himself down a number of streets. Even with all these passing years the old city remained virtually unchanged. His feet guiding him as he eventually arrived at his destination, looking up he saw the familiar domed structure and approaching it found the door to be unlocked. This wasn’t a typical practice but for a reason known only to the family that owned it, they always left the door unlocked on the family tomb on this night. Perhaps he would visit them later, drop off a few gold bars.

The door swung open without much encouragement, not because of disrepair, rather it would appear it that the hinges had been oiled recently. As he stepped inside with the door sealing gently behind him he found himself in utter darkness. Eyes adjusting quickly and a minor magelight allowed Antal-Lei to peer into the burial tomb that was all too familiar to him. Was this even a burial tomb? The Dunmer burnt their dead but buried the skeletons here or something? He could not remember and did not understand the customs of his blood-race even after having been around a few for some time.

The air was awfully dry and warm, full of dust and ash that still sapped all moisture from his lungs. Coughing slightly as he inhaled, Antal-Lei continued on in utter silence as he made automatically for the…burial pit? Honestly he did not know what it was called, but the pit where the remains of his former student and dear friend lay.

Taking calm in the still surroundings, Antal-Lei rounded a corner to find the ash-filled pit. Glancing down he saw a few bones peaking out from their blanket of ash and soil. Already many had been here, leaving the peculiar plants of Morrowind, a few small treasures, even a few coins and some candles that were nearly burnt out.

For a moment he gazed at the bones with a tinge of sadness to his eyes. This is what he hated – befriending someone who was not Argonian or Saxhleel and knowing that once they were gone, that was it – no way to encounter them again. No way to relive their memories and knowledge. How he would have loved that – to see the world through his student’s eyes and laugh at the string of curses that would no doubt follow with the early memories of Antal-Lei’s teachings.

Then out of a small bag hanging from his shoulder he reached in and pulled out a solid gold cup. Kneeling down, he pushed the cup firmly into the ash before filling it with cocoa beans. Next he retrieved several brightly coloured feathers from his bag which on closer inspection revealed them to have tiny pink woodlice stuck to them. Planting the feathers in firmly between the cocoa beans, they rose up like little plants.

As he reverted into a sitting position, Antal-Lei gazed sliently at the pit. It was most peculiar, for him to feel so melancholy about death given Saxhleel do not fear it and do not mourn their lost ones like the other races. For each Saxhleel is reborn and their memories live forever in The Hist.

Taking a deep breath, Antal-Lei exhaled before finally deciding on what to say. “It is quite amazing how with all that’s changed, some parts don’t? Blacklight just hasn’t changed in some ways at all. I have no clue even you can hear me, I expect you can, can’t Dunmer do ancestor magic to communicate with the living? I never understood it myself. Never cared to I guess,” sighing heavily as if to stop his voice from shaking, this never got any easier, it never would, he continued, “your great-great…How many great’s is it now? However many it is – grandchildren are doing well aren’t they? I expect you watch them a lot, you always were stubborn, you’d find a way to keep on watching your family.

Laughing quietly to himself, he sighed, this time a bit happier. “Your stubbornness always drove my patience quite thin. Always trying to get out of things, throwing a tantrum and all sorts, and yet I stuck with you. Back then I had no clue why, but now I think I do and I know right now you’re cursing me for being so sappy. But I’m not going to stop, so you’ll just have to listen. You always hated sitting down and listen to me talk too, at least to begin with. I think I made my decision to stick with you when you told me about Garvs. I just… I don’t know, I suddenly saw it as my duty to become your father figure. Nothing pains me more than children who are orphans or do not love their children, as you well know. Before that…I guess I just saw you as a bratty Dunmer. Though you were growing on me even then.

“But I should not dwell on such sad things, I still remember the time you sent me all those panicky letters. Begging me to drop everything and rush to Blacklight because your daughter had just been born. Only you had somehow forgotten I could not read, so Sings-With-Fingers read it to me. He and you both made it sound so urgent I thought you were ill and unable to take care of your newborn.” Antal-Lei’s face grew brighter as he started to chuckle. “I still remember when you came down the stairs that morning to find me in your house with the baby, you screamed in such a high-pitched manner I thought it was the baby for a second. And your face… When you found out I had bypassed all your security runes like it was nothing….”

Antal-Lei continued to laugh for a minute or so before shaking his head as he regained control. “But as always I remember how you became a fantastic student, all the struggles you faced and yet you pushed through. In time you became such a dear friend to me, I learnt more from you than I thought possible. I thank you for that once more and for the honour of having you as a student and friend.

“I think about you every day still, I never thought I could miss a Dunmer so much. I cannot put into words how much you mean to me and I know you hear me say the same things every year. You’re probably sick of it all… I just… I just regret I was not always around, we both had our own lives that caught up with us and I wish I could have visited more often than I did. I fear that eventually I will no longer be able to make these trips, I hope there is another way to continue to do this somehow…

“Ah, listen to me! Getting mopey again, perhaps I should just shut up? Save yourself the headache,” Antal-Lei chuckled to himself before returning to silence, recalling memories that remained as clear as the seawater of his village. So many memories and experiences, more emotions than Antal-Lei could count. How long had they been friends? Over four centuries definitely. The magelight had long since faded, the candles flickering away still before finally simmering out.

Once more darkness until a warm magelight cast a dim glow once more.

Antal-Lei’s hand idly played with a strand of hair as he tugged at it and felt it come loose. Glancing down he saw the dip-dyed strand to be pale about its root. Laughing softly, he sighed. “Oh dear, it would appear I am finally old. I bet you are laughing. Although… Unlike you, my hip is in perfect working order. Maybe one day I‘ll wake up and find a walking stick has mysteriously appeared,” the smile was in his voice, not upon his lips, being raised Argonian meant he had learnt that any baring of the teeth meant aggression. And so Antal-Lei’s cheeks were puffed up, eye narrowed ever so slightly in an expression akin to a smile.

Standing up with bittersweet happiness running through his warm red eyes, he gazed one last time at the ‘grave’.

“Until next time, and thank you for everything again, Gilmyn.”

[refusaltobow]

Antal-Lei’s Past 1

The child, who was probably no older than ten or eleven, sat as a grey, hunched over lump. Slightly round legs sticking out in the cool, comforting mud as his feet were stuck in the saline waters of the mangrove swamp. Nestled between two mangroves, roots raised up in a comforting barrier, the Dunmer stared at his legs as teeth pinched his upper lip. Trying so hard not to cry, trying to hold back all those tears he could feel burning behind his eyes.

His throat ached from the lump which clogged it, only to grow as those cruel voices grew. The taunts. The teasing and laughter. Cruels words and fingers that had poked and prodded.

“Blood-Eyes!...Haha, he can’t run!...What? No, why would we want you to play Teeba-Hatsei - you can’t run or jump, Fake-Fins...You thought those were fins?! Wow...Hey, Tailless - catch!...You should learn to swim faster. Oh wait, you can’t - HA!”

The tugging at his ears, the giggling as more words echoed within his brain. It was no use, his small body shaking as first the tears came silent and steady before falling in a uncontrollable storm as he gasped and whimpered. Trying so hard to keep silent, lest something find him. Bringing his knees up to his chest, the boy grasped his legs firmly against himself, burying his head in his knees.

He hated himself, why was he different?! Why was he not like the others?! Why had he been born a Dunmer?! It was so unfair! Question and doubts raced through his mind as minutes passed, gradually all thoughts subsiding due to it being too painful to even think about such things.

Doing his best to control his sobs, his breathing, Antal-Lei raised his head to glance down at the gleaming black object nestled in the mud beside him. In his anger he had grabbed the first sharp object he could find, an obsidian dagger, and torn into secluded spot, far from the place he usually went when he wished to be alone.

Sniffing and wiping his eyes, smearing mud about his face as he did so, Antal-Lei extended a hand to take the blade in a shaking grip. Hand tightening about grip, he did his best to quell the shaking  as he shuffled himself closer to the water.

Kneeling forwards, bathed the blade in trhe remarkably clean waters of the mangrove swamp. Unable to even gaze upon his reflection, Antal-Lei chose to examine the dagger. Could he really do this?

Yes. He could.

He just wanted these wretched things off! Perhaps then the others would like him better? Wouldn’t they?

Sniffling, Antal-Lei placed a stick in his mouth before gripping the tip of his right ear. Pulling at it so it was held taught and away from his scalp, Antal-Lei screwed his eyes up as he brought the blade to rest against the top of his ear.

Through sobs as yet more hot tears streaked down his face, Antal-Lei took one final deep breath. Steadying his hand, he started to saw.

And almost immediately stopped. The pain flared up as he sliced into the cartilage with surprising ease. Swallowing, the Dunmer took a moment as yet more sobs wracked him before resuming his ‘task’.

Hot blood dribbled down to mix with his hot tears, the sticky mess practically scorching his face. With each cut the pain flared up more, the gristle of his ear grinding against the blade before falling away with ease. The deeper he cut, the more his hands shook as his sobs returned, trying not to scream from the intense pain flaring about his head.

He could not stop. How could he? He had to get these things off right now!

Forcing the blade deeper still he knew he was not cutting straight. Not that he cared. Hands slippery with blood, he struggled to hold the blade but still he persevered.

“Antal-Lei? ANTAL-LEI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Startled on hearing his name, Antal-Lei’s hands shook violently as he hurriedly brought the dagger away from his ear. Fruitlessly trying to hide it. Lifting his head up his saw his father standing waist-deep in the water, utterly tense as he gazed upon his distraught adoptive son.

“I..” was all the Dunmer could croak before the Saxhleel charged through the water, falling to his knees and scooping his son up into a tight embrace.

“We had no clue where you were, Anti. We’ve been looking for ages!” his father’s voice shook with worry as he held his son close as guilt gripped his son. Why had he thought this was a good idea?!

Antal-Lei could not move, eyes open as tears silently fell. For a moment or two more all was silent, calmly still before the Saxhleel pulled away to look at his son. One hand lifting his hair up gently to examine the now-butchered ear.

“Anti… Why did you…?” The Saxhleel’s eyes focused on his son’s who could not meet his father’s gaze, such was his shame.

“I..” his voice was croak, all he could do was stare at the blade held limply in his blood-soaked hand. How was he still able to cry? How had his tears yet not run dry?

“I am sorry.. I…” His body starting to shake again as his head lowered itself still more, his eyes nearly closing before he felt a scaled hand clasp his bloodied one, the other one cupping his chin.

Looking up with fear in his eyes he found his father’s snout to be mere inches from his nose.

“You do not need to apologise for anything, Anti.” A pause. “Can you tell me why you did this?”

Antal-Lei’s face creased up with fresh sorrow, his throat hurting so much he could barely speak. “Fake-fins.” It was all he could say before he was overcome by a fresh wave of sobs as the dagger fell from his grip. Throwing himself at his father, burying his face in his father’s chest, the Dunmer could not hold back this time as howls surged forth.

Body aquiver and pressed against his father, the Saxhleel merely sat in utter silence before wrapping his son in a tight embrace in arms and tail. Head pressed against the boy’s own, he gently stroked his son’s hair and started to sing in a soft, surprisingly pleasant tone. A simple song that had soothed Antal-Lei countless times. A song of the river dolphins and manatees.

And he did not stop singing. For the hours he sat there as his son wept before finally falling asleep, the Saxhleel continued to hum. Perhaps to comfort himself just as much in a way, too afraid to move for fear of waking the child.

This child was not a Saxhleel by birth but already it was incredible at such a young age how much he was like one. His entire character a stark contrast from his birth-race. The Saxhleel could only hold him closer at that thought, Antal-Lei had not chosen to be born a Dunmer. It was not his fault, he could not be blamed for the actions of his ancestors. Even if it took the rest of his life, and the next, and the next, Antal-Lei’s father promised himself to ensure Antal-Lei would realise such a truth fully.

Was that not were fathers were supposed to do? Protect, support and listen to their child, no matter what they did? To have patient and understand them? To be there for them in their darkest hours and to rescue them if needs be.

“I will never give up on you, Antal-Lei. I will never be ashamed of you,” the Saxhleel whispered before standing to return home with his sleeping son. The dagger lay forgotten in the mud, soon to be claimed by the swamp.

[refusaltobow]

The Massacre of Tear (and the Finding of Antal-Lei)

The ground shook with the pounding of hundreds of clawed feet. Snarls and roars echoed throughout the day, even as the evening drew in, the force could not be quelled. The screams of the Dunmer were drowned out by the clash of metal against the dull thud of wood. Arcane ice cracked and spliced the air, spearing yet more bodies.

Spears sung through the air as more and more of the Saxhleel poured in through the gates and over the walls with terrifying ease. Like ants they were unstoppable and easily overpowered their former masters. Blood painted the once proud buildings, the city of Tear was in ruins - half or more claimed by the swamp. No one had been prepared for this. In fact, no one could possibly comprehend how the Saxhleel were so powerful and just why they they were so prepared for war.

As the citizens of Tear tried to flee, they were blocked off at every turn. Every possible exit only greeted them with yet another snarling Saxhleel. Children were screaming, some Dunmer had collapsed on the street, holding loved ones now slain. Some sought refuge in houses, but it was no use, reptiles always find a way in. Some Dunmer had opted in desperation to play dead whilst others took their own lives, not willing to fall at the blade and teeth of a Saxhleel. You see, a Saxhleel can hear a heartbeat. Many hours after the main attack, when dawn had risen the Saxhleel stalked the streets, finding those who were playing dead and sending them to join their ancestors.

But even as the Dunmer - many of whom were not warriors, had never picked up a sword in their life or cast a spell - pleaded for their lives it did no good. They were only greeted with snarls and that guttural yet bird-like language of Jel. Unlike their former masters, every Saxhleel learnt to fight from hatching. If not a Shadowscale, you still had to learn to fight and defend yourself - every day was a matter of survival in Argonia. And given how a Saxhleel could have been captured for slavery at any moment or whisked away by whet-fangs, every Saxhleel child was trained to defend themselves. Moreso, the ability of their cryomancers was something to behold - these mages did not just stand there and occasionally run about, keeping to the back. These mages were in the thick of it - fighting with their brothers and sisters as magic shot from their hand, feet and tails.

But this nightmare could not simply end there – the Saxhleel looked monstrous. Ranging from 15-20ft tall with huge claws and teeth, glowing eyes and impenetrable skin. The Oblivion Crisis had only been six years ago and it would appear they had retained their monstrous forms brought on by the power of The Hist. It was almost as if The Hist had know what would befall the Dunmer a mere 5 years after the Gates to Oblivion had opened.

The fury and anger with which the Saxhleel fought was simply terrifying. The Dunmer of House Dres were being forced back, their wizards were failing miserably. Whilst not all of House Dres was here, several important members were. All would be victims of this massacre.

As more spears, poisoned darts and arrows assailed the sky, any living Dunmer began to race towards the keep of House Dres. But the Saxhleel were faster, falling on the race that had inflicted thousands of years of pain upon them, tearing out throats and severing limbs.

As the ‘lucky’ few reach the doors, the guards could only look on in horror as the remaining Dunmer fought and fell, not just against their former slaves. But against their own kind - unlike them, the Saxhleel had no problems with necromancy and now, to their disgust, the Saxhleel were raising the dead. Of course, not a single Dunmer saw the irony - for hundreds of years now, House Dres had been taking the skin of Argonian slaves and wearing it.

As the doors were slammed and bolted, any furniture was piled against it.

“We’ve got to get out! there must be a way out!” one guard yelled from by the door.

“There’s a tunnel, in the basement.”

“That’s collapsed and flooded.”

“Well, then, who here knows levitation spells?”

“Me!” three Dunmer raised their hands only to look crestfallen.

“You three - go! Get out! Warn the rest of Morrowind!”

“But-”

“Go!”

The trio nodded and began to rise into the air before find their way out through a window. This only highlighted the issue that the Argonians were going to get in through those windows. Even as the three Dunmer drifted with haste through the windows screams were heard. Much to the trapped Dunmer’s horror they saw a spear pierce one, ice another and the third was taken by a Saxhleel that had obviously climbed the wall and jumped.

By now evening had fallen, the light closing in fast.

“We have to try the tunnel.” All turned in alarm to see Relves the current leader of House Dres looking utterly hopeless. Try as he might, he was struggling to put on a steely resolve. It was almost like he had already given up, like he knew there was no chance of escape.

He turned on his feet and was about to lead the way down when he stopped, hearing his name being called, he turned to see his wife, dishevelled, terrified and with tears running down her face, as she ran down the stairs. Clutched against her chest was Relven, their son who was screaming and crying, terrified by all of the noise but clueless as to the danger. He was barely a year old, at the sight of his child, Relves felt anger boiling within. How dare these filthy lizards come here?! How dare they take his city?! His son had barely started life and now it would seem it would be cut short so cruelly.

“Andayne!” he exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug as she crashed into him. Much to his shame he felt his eyes sting with tears. Holding her close, he was quickly snapped out of his temporary sanctuary as a guard called to him, touching his arm.

Breaking away, he pushed Andayne towards the stairs and was about to turn and make a last stand.

“Relves please! Just come - you won’t last five seconds!”

Realising her to be right, especially when Argonians started to funnel in through the windows. Argonians that looked suspiciously vampiric given their eyes were glowing. He turned on his heel and, taking her hand, he joined the survivors as they charged down flights of stairs before reaching the basement. A guard flung open the trapdoor revealing an ominous dark hole. A magelight was summoned to reveal the passage to be partially flooded but overall it was accessible.

Overhead they heard the snarls of the invading Argonians as several guards ran off to fight them. Relves took Relven from his wife and quickly eased her down. The moment she was in, he passed their child down to her. Telling her to start running, he quickly jumped down to catch up to her. Taking her hand, they led the charge of terrified Dunmer down the passage. His anger had long since subsided to be replaced by a new emotion, one he had never felt before. Yes he was feeling scared, but this was terror, an emotion alien to him having never felt remotely scared since a child. And now he was petrified. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears as this new emotion towered above all. Helplessness. He felt helpless.

How could those barbaric, uncivilised beasts attack with such coordination? They were so swift, so ruthless. When he had woken that morning it had been peaceful, by midday screams had already started to echo from the edges of the already-fallen city. Half claimed by the swamps in the Red Year.

This emotion crashed down on him as he rounded the corner to see what he knew must be there and yet he had been praying would not be there. The passage was caved in.

Crying out in horror, knowing there was no way they could blast through all that. He turned to his wife. “I am so sorry.” tears were now streaming freely down his face, crying silently. How could this be?! How could he of such a proud race die here, underground?

As the remaining Dunmer caught up with them only to break into sobs and screams, seeing their fate was quite literally sealed. Relves took his wife in a firm embrace. If they were going to die here, then they were going to die in eachother’s arms. Looking down he felt his stomach sink to see her wide terrified eyes staring straight up at him. Given he must have looked a wreck himself, she was no doubt losing any thread of confidence. All he could do was swallow nervously, press a kiss to her forehead and hold her close, as he did his best to still his weeping.

As the the adults cried and clung to each other, many sobbing in silent with shattered, broken breathes. It was quiet, save for the wailing of the infant. Even that died down as the tunnel had grown incredibly quiet.

It was perhaps one to two minutes of pregnant silence, the air was static with tension. It was like everyone had stopped breathing, as if hoping that would save them (as if to reinforce this they stood in utter darkness, having extinguished the mage lights). Deep down, they knew it would not, they knew argonians to be a beast race with superior senses. They could smell them from two miles away.

Andayne gasped as the sound of distant splashing echoed throughout the tunnel. It was slow and precise, as if the one who was approaching was taking their time. As if they wanted to prolonge the agony subject to the Dunmer. The splashing grew louder, as it did it became increasingly apparent that more than one lizard was down there.

It was so close now before it stopped. It was pitch black but all the Dunmer knew what was mere paces from them. Even if they did know that did not stop them from whimpering and screaming as the cold blue light of mage lights flared into existence. Relves pressed Andayne against him, her face buried in his chest whilst he turned Relven away to shield them from the nightmare standing before them.

The Argonians that stood before them were not the malnourished slaves, these were 20ft tall, so tall they were hunched over in the tunnel. Towering figures of armoured scales and so much muscle it was unbelievable. Their scales glistening with blood and without a single cut. Their teeth huge and eyes glowing with a fury like the rage of Red Mountain.

Relves stared straight into the eyes of the closest lizard in what he hoped was a defiant face of anger. His eyes were cold, hard and fuming but his voice had left him. He was unmistakably terrified. To be faced with this thing whose jaws would effortlessly rip him asunder.

“How quaint, that you hide yourself down here. Selfish as always, you cower in here hoping to your pathetic Daedra that we would somehow miss you. Tell me, how could we possibly pass up the opportunity of arresting the Arch-Slaver of House Dres?” The hate spilling from the reptilian’s mouth was so great that ‘hate’ was but a weak word to describe it.

“That is n-“

“Silence, wretch! I know it isn’t but Idon’tgiveadamn, I’ll call you what I like, you bastard,” hissing and spitting venom-tainted saliva upon the Dunmer who slowly felt himself shrinking before the monster. “One more word from that diseased mouth of yours and I kill her right now.”

A clawed finger was raised at Andayne, and for once the typically arrogant Dunmer had no words. Relves knew he had to obey, as much as he detested the idea though failing to see the irony of it all. Only disgust that he must bow to the will of such an uncivilised creature filled him. That tone, the way that thing was gazing at him with such a threat and bloodlust told him that this creature was not lying.

Lips thinned though the fury in his eyes was but a trickle of its former self, he was trying so hard not to let the mounting fear overwhelm him. All he could do was clutch his wife and son closely to him.

He would not cry. He could not. And yet his wife was quietly sobbing and his child had started wailing once more. Is this really how House Dres would end? Ravaged by bloodthirsty monsters. A sea of blood swept up by screams. He felt numb, like this was all some horrific dream and at any moment he would awaken with a gasp in the quiet, still night.

It was only now, now that he knew all of what he was about to loose did he feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. Of finality. He refused to even think it but in the churning pit of his stomach he knew he had lost.

“Good boy,” the creature murmured in a condescending tone, the sort --- had used countless times when addressing a subdued slave. There was a pause before the reptilian beast broke its gaze on the Dunmer, glancing at another reptile. Barking something in Jel, the silence hung for one more dread-filled second before the lizards leapt on the various Dunmer. Fresh screams unleashed, Relves fought to keep Andayne at his side, doing all he could to fend off these monsters.

But it was no use, these creatures were far too strong. Stronger than Orcs it would seem. With ease, they wrenched Relven away from the now-frantic Andayne as she kicked and screamed, crying out in desperation with a voice rapidly growing hoarse as she bit back at the lizards. Doing all she could to protect her son with her body as she tried to curl inwards and away. Even the ferocity of a desperate mother was useless, despite her new-found strength, Relves could only watch helpless for he was now restrained, (the one whom had a hold on him unflinching at his kicks and stamps) as his only child was torn from his wife’s hold.

The child’s bawling erupted and echoed throughout the tunnel, firing the horrific thought that these barbarians would eat this poor innocent child alive right there. So it was perhaps most queer that this child was immediately silenced by a magic-induced sleep and carried off almost instantly.

Relves could only watch, limp and resigned, as his son was carried away in the arms of these uncivilised monsters. He would get his son back, he would. He just had to cooperate for now and surely he could at least ensure his son was set free?! But all his promises and hopes would be for nought, deep down he knew it already, like a minor itch at the back of scalp. Deep down he knew that he would never see his son again. Who was he kidding? There was no escape. His son was gone.

Only as his child faded into the darkness of the tunnel, did he feel his eyes sting from the salt of a tear. Grounded back to reality he grew aware of his wife’s screams, the painful, cruel grip about his arms and something else… Something he was an utter stranger to and yet so familiar with. Chains.

Relves heard and felt the cold clap of iron about his wrists as he glanced down to see the familiar magicka-dampening bracers about his own wrists. Eyes widening, he furiously looked about for Andayne who was already in bracers. Such was her state she was even struggling to stand, weeping uncontrollably she had no hope of walking. The Argonians appeared to have no desire to argue with her either, resorting to instead shoving her straight at her husband who was simultaneously shoved towards her.

Stumbling, Relves regained his footing quickly whereas Andayne more or less fell like mercury to the floor, her robes now soaked. Having no clue what to say, never thinking he would even have to learn to be comforting in a situation like this (additionally saying ‘it’s alright’ just seemed insulting). Bending over, he gently took hold of one of her hands, her grip tightening in response as she gaze up at him with glistening eyes.

Biting his lip, determined not to reveal just how weak and distraught he felt. Relves helped her to her feet, his other hand resting about her shoulder. Her trembling body now collapsed against him, head buried in his chest as he wrapped his arm about her, his other hand retaining its hold on hers. As if he could act as some sort of shield for her, silly as that notion was.

Pressing a kiss to her head he very nearly stumbled again as he was shoved from behind. Head snapping about with venom in his eyes that drained almost instantly on meeting the fetid breath and cruel eyes of a lizard. No words were spoken, a mere growl from its throat. But Relves understood, he had to walk. Walk or risk getting his face ripped off. Whilst that was perhaps the more favourable of the two right now, given what the Argonians may be planning for them. He could only think of his wife and her fragile state. And his son. Despite what he told himself, what he knew, a frail hope clung to him still that once more he would be able to hold his son.

Slowly they started walking (it was only now he noticed that some of the Dunmer that had accompanied him down here were now lying strewn about the floor with lightless eyes), focusing on ensuring Andayne did not take yet another tumble. Utter quiet but for her whimpers and the echoes of solemn splashes within the tunnel. Back up the ladder and through the corridors to the front doors that had been torn asunder from their hinges.

They exited into the cool night air only to be assailed by the rich copper stench of blood, the air was ripe with it. Looking down, the sight made the remaining Dunmers’ stomach turn – so much blood has been split that the Argonians were actually wading through it. Ankle or so deep, the splashes echoed through the night as the ‘lesser race’ worked in silence, dragging screaming Dunmer who had desperately hidden themselves. Whilst Relves did his best to hold his head high, doing all he could to comfort his sobbing wife.

It was far easier to comfort her than look about him, witnessing the horrors subject to his people – some corpses were being skinned for whatever sick reason these lizards had. Whilst the rest began to stand of their own accord as limp figures.

Necromancy.

It really was not surprising that such an uncivilised, uneducated race would have such foul practices. A wave of revulsion charged through him, only to crash against a cliff of furious disgust as he heard an Argonian speak.

“You see them? All those thralls?” it swept its hand about with apparent pride at the listless undead. “They will accompany us north. We are going to take back the lands you stole from The Hist long ago. But we will not stop there. Oh no. We shall go as far north as we wish. Too long have your kind grown fat on our labour, profited from it whilst we have suffered for it. Too long have we been subject to a treatment far worse than one subjects to even a second-class citizen. It is time your kind learnt humility and suffering. Protest all you will, there is nothing ‘civilised; about ordering raids on peaceful villages, tearing children from their parents and forcing them into hard labour, treating them with less respect than one of your damn guar. And yet you still have the audacity to think a sentient being property. For centuries your kind has grown in power on the backs of a race you think stupid. Well now you will learn that we are anything but stupid. And perhaps your race will learn to never again, put us in chains.”

With that, the few surviving Dunmer were nothing more than a blood-stained despairing gaggle. Heads hung low they began to follow their former slaves, long having forgone the hope of any prayers, it would appear the Gods had indeed abandoned them entirely. Incredible really, how only twenty or so years can wreak so much havoc upon one nation. To constantly tear them down, denying them any chance of recovery.

From a distance, atop a horse sat a figure clad in black with flecks of gold, watching as the dregs of House Dres left. Their lips curled slightly in a cold smile. Perfect. The invasion had begun with devastating effect. If all was to go accordingly then the Dominion would reap the rewards of a severely weakened threat and a powerful ally.

The Dunmer and the Saxhleel left behind a ravaged city some would have once called beautiful. To the Saxhleel it had been nothing short of a place of horrors and at long last was it showing through. The skinned bodies lay strewn about, blood soaking into every stone. Such was the bloodshed of thousands Tear bathed in the blood of its slaughtered citizens for days.

*****

200 years on and the stones remain dark red, collecting dust from the north as the swamps and flora of Argonia claim the city for their own. The Saxhleel avoid Tear, letting it fall to utter ruin and as such the remnants of the Great House Dres were consumed by Argonia.